I am, I know. I can attempt to justify myself by saying that I am one fantastic churchgoer, an dedicated bumper-to-bumper driver, a sometimes late night worker and I think, a good friend, but there is no excuse. Blogging is a priority too!
I have, in this, yet another, blogging intermission, thought of many great ideas for a post. I was going to write a funny story comparing artists and logicians, which has been a point of amusement in this crunch time at work. Rob is an artist. He is an excellent designer, he loves stories, and cartoon characters and is goofy and funny. He is now faced with the daunting task of designing a new textbook on formal logic. He has discovered that formal logic has, inherently, no imagery whatsoever. Rob asked and begged the authors (yes, we have warmly referred to them as egg-heads) for some ideas. He begged for examples. "What," he said, "is the real life purpose, the application, the VERY REASON that ANYONE would EVER want or need to learn formal logic?" The poor egg-heads simply blinked, and we truly believe that the question had never remotely occured to them. One had the nerve, the guts, the imagination, to offer a foundation, a flat, rectangular flat sheet of concrete on the ground, as an idea for imagery. I think Rob almost exploded.
In the end it is working out. The book isn't ready for design yet anyway, and I think we have settled on a structural engineering theme, using blueprint like images of bridges and skyscrapers and, I hope, some gothic cathedrals.
I wanted to write earlier and tell everyone that they must, if they can still find it, go and see the movie Miss Potter. It is the story of Beatrix Potter, but it is about everything that a good story is about. It is about taking the risk to do somthing that is uniquely you, about friendship, about love in a beautifully unpredictable way, about pain and disappointment, about publishing, and about the earth and the beauty of creation.
I am also reading a great great book. I have been hearing the name Wendell Berry absolutely everywhere lately, so upon these glowing recomendations I am reading Jayber Crow. Please read it. Go go buy it now. Maybe it makes life seem simpler than it feels to me these days, but it is about how God leads us, and how that may not be where we thought we were going, but he is leading us to be who he made us, and to serve others as we are, and he is leading us home.
I could also write about our home. Kelly and I pray for this house sometimes, and it seems like people are blessed when they come here. Last night, while she was here alone, Kelly annointed our house. She dipped her finger in oil and drew a cross onto our back door. We had the back door replaced several months ago, and though she had done this when we first moved in, last night she suddenly thought to do it again. And lo and behold, I dragged a bunch of friends home from Bible study last night, and gave them tea, and we sat laughing and talking around the living room. My friend Mike found a poem by Hannah on our fridge, that she wrote for us when we moved here. It is called Blessing for a House, and after reading it, he kept talking about how it made him think of Thanksgiving dinner, and a horn of plenty spilling out onto the table. One guy who came last night, who is a very new aquaintance to most of us, is not a Christian. There was a rather intense discussion at Bible study about why that is, and I think it came down to his belief that if he couldn't forgive his own sins, then God probably couldn't either. So he sat on the gold chair from my grandmother and looked at my paintings and told stories and asked questions. And when he left he said thanks, and walked out the back door. Behind him, my friend Stephanie, who hasn't been to my house in months said, "Is this a new door?" And I only heard the full story this morning, catching up with Kelly and putting the pieces together.
Some other ideas I have been thinking of writing about involve worship, and the various expressions that I have encountered over the last few weeks. This is a big topic, and I think it will be ongoing, so stay tuned. But the other night I met with few others on the worship team ( I didn't want to go, of course. I was too busy, etc...) and we were able to discuss some of our ideas and visions, and then we prayed together, and I haven't had a prayer time like that for years. So what is God up to? I am not sure, but he is working on something and I find that I am full of delight and desire for who He is in the meantime, and worship itself takes on a whole new (not really new) meaning.
5 comments:
You're blog is great! I'm involved in some forum groups and email networks in which I'm tempted to post, post, post. It is good to choose carefully what one has to say before going public, that would be the Wendell Berry way ;-) Thanks for the Miss Potter recommendation. Looking forward to the thoughts on worship. I also have a number on my mind, offering them to God . . .
My dear roommate ~ I must admit that when I first read this post, I felt a strange set of emotions... I was amused by the egghead characterization, and then I thought - HEY - I have a fairly logical bent - is she calling me an egghead?!? So I was all set to offer up a soliloquy on why logic is necessary, those who don't appreciate logic are eggheads, etc... But then I realized that I hadn't quite gotten the gist of what you had written :)
You said that there is absolutely no imagery to logic, and you were searching for imagery (and if I may extrapolate - beauty) in logic. Might I offer up that logic forms the basis for art and imagery and beauty? Sometimes though, we logicians need artists to come along and reinterpret or rearrange our logical sentiments to bring out the beauty inherent in the logic.
I've been thinking about many examples of how art isn't possible without logic (that is, logic in the general sense, not necessarily strictly formal logic). Music, for example, uses a logical structure for the notes and combination of notes to create something truly beautiful. Sonnets are beautiful because of the logical and regular cadence of the various forms such as iambic pentameter, etc... We use logic to connect the smaller pieces in order to appreciate the whole picture, kind of like with puzzles (remember the Homer Simpson puzzle? Heavy on logic to fit it together, then more or less appreciation of the whole at the end!)
I think the beauty in logic is that it forms the basis and structure for so many things, yet in and of itself is mostly invisible. We look at a finished puzzle and barely notice that it's a collection of pieces intricately put together. In admiring a dancer, we notice the movements and curves of the body and the interpretation of the connection of logical components. Listening to music we don't often sit there counting the beats, but let it flow and move and become a part of us.
I guess it's up to the artists to take the logic and interpret it in such a way that makes others appreciate the beauty inherent in it. So good luck working with those logicians and trying to convince those eggheads that gothic cathedrals are so much more interesting than a concrete foundation!
Love, Kel
Joanna,
It is nice to read your bouncy voice again! Perhaps your brother would have more thoughts on logic and its value. I really like Kelly's thoughts and defense of its importance and place in the world. If Rob only knew how much "help" he could get if he decides to ask he wouldn't have to be so frustrated.
Take care.
Love,
Mom
I enjoy your blog; it's well-written and thoughtful (and usually more carefully directed than my shotgun-style approach). More is not always better, though my own lapses have at times exceeded the one-year mark. I wouldn't recommend that. People give up checking after a while.
I'll agree with another commenter on here regarding logic and beauty. As someone with a foot in both camps, sometimes the beauty of a thing stems partly from its coherence, that is, the way all of its parts fit together such that each has its purpose and none are extraneous. This applies to all different types of things: a story can achieve beauty through perfectly balanced structure and character interplay, a math equation can be beautiful both in simplicity of form and depth of meaning, even something like an engine can be beautifully designed in its ability to work just so. The logic in these examples is not in the form of direct syllogisms or expressed laws, but in the consistent adherence to principle and form which creates, I think, its own aesthetic. That kind of beauty might appeal more explicitly to math-enabled types, but I think other people notice and appreciate it unconsciously.
I hope you're staying sane with all the busy-ness. I find I generally go nuts in such times. And not in a good way. :)
Ha ha. In other news, I should probably change that ridiculous profile pic...
Post a Comment